


Whole

by Emriel



Series: Taken [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Breathplay, Corruption, Dark Harry, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Horcrux Hunting, M/M, Masochism, Mind Control, Mind Games, Possession, Smut, Stockholm Syndrome, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 08:35:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18232472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: The horcrux hunt goes wrong and Harry fails to destroy the locket horcrux. Tom Riddle hands him over to the Dark Lord as a present for they know he holds part of their soul. In their care, Harry learns that feelings, no matter how toxic, are hard to get rid off.Wizarding Britain falls shortly. Harry is powerless to stop it.He thought he’d never turn into a monster. But what if that's what he needs to become, in order to feel whole again?





	Whole

**Author's Note:**

> **Read the tags.**  
>     
> I wanted to write a slow corruption fic of Harry. I usually just leave him broken in other stories of taken but here, it's a little different.
> 
> If you find any errors let me know because I don't have a beta. And I suck at summaries so I keep changing them.
> 
> When I wrote this story, I had a writer's block. I couldn't feel anything for it not until much later. And I really wasn't sure where to start or where to end it. It turned into a mammoth one-shot. I hope you'll enjoy it anyway just like how I did, eventually.

A lot of things in his life were beyond his control.

From the moment he learned how to say his name, he knew he was unloved.

People can carry grudges. His aunt grew up hating him because she was jealous of magic, and his uncle disliked his parents and grew afraid of what his aunt told him about the freakishness of their kind. Their son copied their behaviour and lo and behold, he grew up neglected.

He couldn’t really blame anyone for this. There were so many people involved regarding his sad childhood. He could blame his family for not taking care of him as they should have. He could blame his neighbors and the teachers who knew what was happening but turned a blind eye.

He could blame Sirius for running off on his own and going mad when he should have stayed and protected him. He could blame his parents for thinking that they were safe by trusting their friends.

He was angry at Peter, the man who betrayed his parents and cost them their lives. He could blame Trelawney for the prophecy. He could blame the Dark Lord for acting on the said prophecy and hunting him down.

Sometimes, he wanted to blame Dumbledore for keeping him with his relatives, but his intention was merely to keep him safe from _more dangerous_ people who wished to harm him. It was an ideal trade off—his happy childhood, for a safer one.

It just wouldn’t end. The cycle of blame.

It was not like he could change what already happened, and there was simply more energy involved with hating people than just letting go. Especially if he was angry at them for _mistakes_ that they didn’t even intend to commit. Besides, Dumbledore was already dead.

But that didn’t change the fact that he grew up unloved, and he was lacking in many ways. He could not understand the joy of coming back to a home. Having his photographs taken was a novelty, but he never understood the importance of having one with family, because his own never bothered.

Because they wanted to ignore his existence.

When the invitation letter to Hogwarts arrived, he was flabbergasted. No one bothered to tell him he was a wizard and that there were people out there who loved him.

But that still wasn’t real love. That was simply admiration. Hero worship.

As a wizard, he was idolized, but very few bothered to check on him. Then he met Ron and Hermione and he thought he might have found a place he belonged, in Hogwarts.

For a time that was enough.

Sometimes he wished he was normal. Ordinary. But nowadays, he hardly even had time to hit pause and rewind. Everything was happening too fast. Somehow he always just went along with it.

If he stopped to think about everything that happened, he’d be screaming. Dumbledore just died. He wasn’t even over mourning for Sirius. A Dark Lord was after his head. Hogwarts fell and they were on the run. Why was he even trying to hunt down the horcruxes?

Did the fate of the Wizarding World truly rested upon his shoulders? The only thing Dumbledore left them was a snitch, his deluminator, and a children’s book. What was he supposed to do with that?

But just like everything in his life, he _went with flow_ because that’s how he was used to dealing with things. He just kept going on even though he had no idea what to do.

He set off on a trip to hunt horcruxes with his friends and they had no idea when it would even end, or if it was possible succeed.

He knew they could destroy them because the ring and the diary had already been dealt with. Something in him told him that it had to be him.

No one else.

But he was thankful for the company of his friends. He honestly had no idea what he’d do without them.

~~With all that was happening, it was easy to forget something he craved for his entire life. It was unecessary when their lives were in constant danger.~~

Hermione was a godsend because out of the three of them, she was the only one who kept using her brains. She was the more rational one, while he and Ron simply acted on their emotions and gut feeling.

And it was always reassuring to have Ron. He knew that he could trust Ron with his back.

But he was scared.

He lost so many people already. He knew that war had casualties. Voldemort was ready to spill blood to prove his point.

The radio that Ron kept always spouted names of people he didn’t know. People who died from the Death Eater attacks. People who went missing.

But somehow, ever since Ron was injured, he didn’t act the same. He splinched himself from their visit in the ministry. They were lucky enough to find out that Dolores had the locket. They were lucky enough that Death Eaters didn’t completely run the ministry at that time.

But having the locket was not enough. Their mission was to destroy it.

They couldn’t do it.

They tried every spell they knew but it was obvious nothing in their repertoire was strong enough to destroy a horcrux. Voldemort would never leave his soul so vulnerable in the first place so that mere sixth years could put an end to it.

So, despite Hermione’s protests, he began to wear it.

Just so they could keep it safe.

The locket was poison. It was evident that the longer he wore it, the more convoluted his thoughts became. The longer it was on his neck, the angrier he became.

Soon enough, it was getting obvious it was too much for one person to handle and Hermione proposed they should take turns. They should have never done that.

 

* * *

 

“He doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Ron said to Hermione. They both sat a few paces away from him, on a tree stump with dry leaves beneath their feet.

The earthy scent that they once welcomed was now a reminder of how much they’ve stayed idle in the same forest. The wind was chilly, but it was nothing a warming charm couldn’t fix. It took a while getting used to the emptiness of the forest, for all they had was a tent, and a few measly spells that couldn’t even prevent people from entering their camping grounds if they really wished to.

Harry was determined to cast one more spell on the locket that continued clicking and hissing everytime. As if taunting him, why can’t he do better?

He knew Ron would say it at one point. Of course he didn’t know. He was running blind and he told them that again and again, but Ron just had to say it to Hermione, purposely letting him hear his grumbling.

Harry tried to be strong. But he knew where Ron was coming from. They had no idea if the people from the wedding survived. They had no idea if Ron’s family survived the attack. Perhaps if he were in Ron’s shoes, he’d feel the same, frayed around the edges.

Harry pretended not to hear it.

 

* * *

 

It took awhile, but Hermione had a quick realization that the Sword of Gryffindor could be the key to their problems for it takes in properties of things that could only make it stronger. Just moments before, she was busy snipping at his hair, and while it was satisfying to hear the individual strands of his hair get trimmed to an acceptable length, it was nothing compared to the slow brightening of her face as she opened a book and told him details of _what_  the sword really meant.

And as she smiled, face brimming with excitement, Harry smiled too. It was infectious.

And if the sword of Gryffindor didn’t work, they could try getting basilisk venom. But he didn’t know where to get that either. At Hogwarts? It got him thinking.

Honestly, sometimes he wondered why Hermione wasn’t the chosen one. Without her, he wouldn’t have gotten so far. “You’re brilliant.” He often would say to her and he had to say it again. He really meant it.

She blushed, and said she was just being rational, while tucking a strand of hair behind one ear.

But Ron was staring at them with a scowl on his face. Frustrated that not only did they have to search for the horcruxes, they have to look for the sword too.

Ron was terribly affected by horcrux, and of being the reason why they couldn’t apparate. As each day passed by, the locket’s influence grew stronger, so much so, that when he saw Harry and Hermione celebrating their discovery, he grew jealous and blew up.

“I just thought that after all this time, we would have actually achieved something. I thought you knew what you were doing! I thought Dumbledore would have told you something worthwhile. I thought you had a plan!” Ron was shouting.

Harry fought back, “I told you everything Dumbledore told me! And in case you haven’t noticed, we have found a horcrux already.”

Ron looked unconvinced, saying, “Yeah and we’re about as close to getting rid of it as we are to finding the rest of it aren’t we?”

Hermione whispered, “Ron.” Admonishing him with a glance. This didn’t sit well with her. She reached out for him, “Please. Take the horcrux off. You won’t be saying any of this if you haven’t been wearing it all day.”

But he fended her off with a bat of a hand. He spewed, “Do you know why I listen to that radio every night? It’s to make sure I don’t hear Ginny’s name. Or Fred, Or George. Or Mum—”

“What— you think I’m not listening too? You think I don’t know how this feels!?” Harry  retorted.

“ **No** you don’t know how it feels!” Ron raised his voice, clearly upest.

“Your parents are dead. You have no family!”

“Stop, stop.” Hermione said. Trying her best to be the level head between the two of them but it was clearly not working.

“Fine, then go! Go then!” Harry shouted. Frustrated. He had enough of it.

Ron looked resolute, “Fine.” He turned to Hermione. “And you? Are you coming or you staying?”

Hermione couldn’t say a word. He was asking him to choose between the two of them.

“Fine I get it. I saw you two the other night.” Ron accused.

“Ron, that’s nothing.” Hermione chased after him.

Harry was left staring at them.

Emptiness is a feeling that can leave one feeling lost. It didn’t go away. Not by itself. Harry was familiar with this.

So he often tried to do things to keep it at bay. He closed himself off and tried not to imagine the thought of Hermione leaving him too. He pretended he couldn’t hear the ringing silence, or the cold that crept in.

Harry wore the locket.

 

* * *

 

The locket was unlike the diary. It did not talk. It was just a warm thing on his neck. Hermione always said the opposite, saying it was odd and felt cold. It was the farthest thing from “warm”.

He knew he should have thought this through more… and Ron was right.

Harry knew he shouldn’t rely on _sheer dumb luck._ Losing his best mate hurt.

Hermione was trying to be strong. For awhile she wouldn’t talk. She stayed and he was thankful but ever since Ron left, she wasn’t the same. She was so stressed one night and she came to him for comfort.

It was not easy on her part. She did something unforgivable, erasing herself from the memory of her parents just so she could join him in this quest. He knew he really should have just left it to the adults, but he believed the prophecy and wanted to do his part, because if not him, who will bother to put a stop to Voldemort?

Hermione wouldn’t let him do it alone and Harry admired her for it. He loved Hermione dearly, and she was like a sister he never had. She was always there for him despite how unlikely they were going to come out of this alive. It hurt him to see her sad.

“I miss them, Harry. I hope they forgive me...”

“I’m sorry you had to do this for me, Hermione.”

Hermione sighed, “It’s not just for you, Harry. This is for all of us but… sometimes I can’t help but wonder...”

She looked haunted, and tried to wipe her tears, “what if we’re not cut out for this? What if… we should have run away when we had the chance?”

She cried on his shoulder and Harry felt a lump at his throat, wondering what he could say in order to comfort her.

What good was telling her he didn’t know? They both know that already. That sometimes he felt like he was leading everyone to their deaths.

“Oh, Harry… I hope Ron’s doing fine… I’m worried.”

Harry was worried too. Ron shouldn’t have tried to apparrate when he was so weak.

Even up to now, Harry could still remember how Albus fell to his death and how he was powerless to stop it. He had his regrets. He wished he was stronger. Strong enough.

But he wasted his life trying to be normal, when he clearly wasn’t. He wished someone trained him for this but that was all in the past.

Harry smiled. He had to do something to get her to cheer up. He wiped her tears. Switched the channels of the radio to blast some music. And then they danced.

Hermione was smiling.

Good.

But after the dance, she was back to being forlorn.

She wasn’t there anymore. Hermione hugged him and said sorry.

The next morning she was gone. With no note. Nothing. He tried not to worry. It was highly unlikely of Hermione to do such a thing.

He was left in this white tent, in the middle of nowhere with just himself and the horcrux. Harry waited for two days.

But it was apparent she wouldn’t come back.

She wouldn’t return to him.

 

* * *

 

“Harry.”

Harry knew he was dreaming, but he couldn’t open his eyes. There was only pitch black darkness and a voice.

“ _They_ **_abandoned_** _you_.”

Hands. Hands trying to wrap itself around his neck.

Squeezed.

“ _Are you sad?_ ” The voice hissed in parseltongue, and Harry felt something wrap around him, a warm embrace.

“ _Don’t worry. You still have me._ ”

 

* * *

Harry woke up from the dream and he wiped the sweat off his brow. His heart was racing and he could feel it thud against his ribcage. “Aguamenti,” he cast the spell on a glass and drank greedy gulps of water.

He cast the spell again, and poured water over himself. He felt hot, as if he had a fever… and he felt terribly weak… like all he wanted to do was lie down in bed. From across him, there were endless plains of mountains. It was a view he never dreamt he’d wake up to.

But all he could think of was how faint he felt. Something was wrong.

And then against the glass, he saw how bruised his neck was.

As if something tried to strangle him in his sleep.

He traced the gold locket with a finger. He tried to take it off, but some force kept it there.

“Shit.”

Harry tried again, tugging at it.

“Come off you damned thing.”

It was burning and he released it with a hiss. It really wouldn’t budge.

He cast spell after spell but all it did was exhaust him.

After an hour of frustration, he gave up and prepared himself breakfast. He then tried reading one of Hermione’s books.

And the page turned by itself.

“ _You._ ” Harry hissed.

“ _Harry.”_

It was as if someone tried to whisper his name in his ear.

“So you can talk _.”_ Harry remarked, gripping the book tighty. He counted one to three in his head, trying to stay calm.

And then, Tom Riddle showed up before him, wearing a simple black robe. He was a little older than the Tom Riddle of the Diary. His eyes were red, and there was a mocking smile on his face.

“I got bored waiting for you to figure it out. Now it’s just us two, I thought I should show myself, to give you some company. You’re terribly sad aren’t you?”

Harry was angry. He wondered where his wand was. He usually kept it within his pocket. His panicking was met with amused laughter.

“You know you can’t fight me, so why bother?”

Harry finally took out his wand and pointed it at Tom Riddle who merely came closer, close enough until the wand went through him.

“...You’re not real?”

Tom reached out to touch his face, and parted his forehead to see his scar. The touch was solid. Harry felt fear.

“I’m as real as you want me to be.”

Then he vanished, and as he did, so did Harry’s consciousness.

 

* * *

 

When he woke up, the sun had already sunk and the sky was a mix of orange and indigo. For some reason, he was back on the bed lying on someone else’s lap.

Tom Riddle was playing around with the golden snitch, but aside from that, everything else was blurry, and his body hurt. His glasses were placed atop the bridge of his nose.

“You’re awake.”

Harry just groaned in pain.

“How are you feeling Harry?”

Harry just glared at him.

“Not one to talk are you? Don’t worry, you’ll be talking soon enough.”

Harry tried to roll away from the man’s lap, but an insistent hand kept him there.

“Let me go.” Harry grumbled.

Tom smiled at him and then a sharp pain broke through his skull. It was like someone was trying to hammer in nails, and it wouldn’t stop.

Harry tried not to scream. He was panting when Tom stopped the assault, cooing at him.

“The locket works differently. Whoever wears it becomes a slave to their own dark thoughts. The more they wear the locket, the stronger I get… and now I’m strong enough to have my own body.”

Harry was quiet, and Tom laughed.

“I saw what was in your hearts and only had to twist a little… Ron was laughably easy to corrupt. He was always jealous of you, and had feelings for your little mudblood friend. It didn’t help that you were close to her. Your mudblood friend is an unexpectedly nice treat. A strong resilient heart… The knowledge she holds for one so young is intriguing… but you, Harry… you’re a nasty piece of work.”

Harry tried to wrestle his hand away from Tom, but Tom merely leaned closer, putting his wrists on either side of his head.

 _“I found it challenging to worm myself in your mind when the convictions you hold are so strong… and so_ **_pure_ ** _but did you know, nestled in that pure white soul of yours, is a small fragment of mine? Did your precious headmaster ever stop to tell you what you really are? That you’re a horcrux?”_ Tom Riddle hissed in parseltongue, enjoying the many different emotions that flashed at Harry’s face.

Harry just felt horror creep at him.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m _not.”_

For some reason, after that admission, everything made sense.

“ _Dumbledore planned to sacrifice you. All this time, you were chasing after your own demise… but your struggles are useless, now that I know the truth. My other self will soon know as well… after I take you to him myself_.”

“Why don’t you just get this over with… why don’t you just call him here?” Harry asked.

Tom simply smiled, and his red eyes almost looked like thin slits, as the rest of his form turned into a ghastly apparition of darkness.

“But Harry… I have yet to play with you… Let me in.”

Harry felt the mist go in his body.

 

* * *

 

Being possessed by the horcrux was disorienting. His body moved on its own without his consent. It’s been days since he last saw the tent.

Tom used his magic without permission, apparating from place to place. He began seeing the world in his eyes.

Harry would remain quiet while Tom shared small anecdotes of his life, and how for a time after graduating, he longed to see the world.

 _“But the more I saw the world, the more I wanted to change it_ ”

And Harry thought it was wrong. “What good would that do?”

“You don’t understand, Harry. A lot of things in this world are _despicable._ The muggles are _vermin,_ for one. They sully the earth with their hands. As a whole, they only thing they know is how to destroy it.”

“That’s not true.” Harry argued.

“I didn’t expect you to agree, but one day I can show you why I think that way.”

Harry could feel his fingers, trembling from exhaustion. The next moment Harry opened his eyes, they were away from London but instead, hanging on to metal railing of a building he only saw in postcards.

Tom brought them at the top of Eiffel, marvelling at how much the world changed. “It’s a pity that when I rule, this will all disappear.”

“Then why not keep it?” Harry asked, almost breathless at the view.

Tom blinked with his eyes. “Because I want to destroy it.”

Tom held on quite loosely to a rail. He was using Harry’s body… and he slowly let his feet dangle, almost three hundred feet above ground. He grinned as he let go of his hold and Harry was diving head first to the city below.

Harry wanted to close his eyes.

And then, in an instant, they were in a misty forest.

“Welcome to Albania. I can feel your heart beating fast… are you scared Harry? I thought you’d like it… you liked to fly after all.”

“You bastard.”

Tom laughed, “Touché, but sadly my parents were married, even if my muggle father was under the influence of a love potion. Now, from the memories of the soul within you, Harry… it seems like I’ve spent a long while, travelling across this land. We should probably rest for tonight. This body of yours will not last long.”

Tom was waylaid by the stars, ignoring his protests. Tom stopped to enjoy it all. He was incredibly tactile, preferring to touch things rather than see them at times. He’d run his fingers against the leaves, the grass. He breathed in the air, taking it all in.

Then once he did all that, he opened his eyes, to the night sky. Looking up at the stars and the moon.

Tom used his mouth, speaking in Harry’s voice, “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen or felt anything. It truly is a novel experience to be alive.” Harry’s body spread his arms, twirling around until he tired and nestled himself underneath an old tree. Tom reached up for the heavens.

 

* * *

 

Harry knew he was starving.

Tom was silent, looking up the sky in quiet contemplation. Ignoring Harry’s thoughts.

It’s been three days since his body was last fed.

Tom tried to coax him into a conversation at times, but Harry didn’t want to provide his enemy any sort of entertainment, so as often as he could, he kept his mouth shut.

But sometimes, Tom wouldn’t even let him see the outside world. Sometimes he’d be trapped in his own mind. In the endless darkness, with only Tom’s voice as his companion. And just as he thought that, he felt darkness creep on him.

 

* * *

 

The foliage disappeared, as did the sensation of the uneven ground upon his back. He was back into seeing nothing.

Tom was combing through his memories. He knew this, because he could see flashes of his childhood. Thoughts of his younger self.

His small voice, crying out, “Please help me.”

It was annoying, and Harry also felt vulnerable. Nobody apart from Snape was able to see his memories.

At the thought of Snape, Tom gave a pleasant hum.

“It seems like there _is_ someone that you hate more than Voldemort. That’s quite sad.”

“It’s none of your business.”

A memory then replayed of Harry touching his small plastic toys inside his cupboard, just before he left Privet Drive with polyjuiced versions of him.

Rewind, and there was a four year old him, pretending those toys were in an epic battle. Despite being locked inside the cupboard, hungry for food, he could at least pretend to be too busy doing something.

Harry didn’t want to revisit it.

“After having seen most of your life, one would think we’d grow up alike.”

“I’m different.” Harry said. And now that Tom stopped pilfering through his memories, the darkness was beginning to make him uncomfortable, the way it stretched on and on and on.

It felt as if he’d lost his sight, and the ability to sense things. He had no body. He was just _thought_. Only his voice remained, or the ability to imagine he had a voice. He was growing mad.

“You and I grew up with muggles who did not condone magic. There was no love. There was only hate. And yet instead of choosing to fight back, you grew meek. You let it happen. You let your muggle relatives mistreat you. You grew up in that cupboard of yours resenting them, finding comfort in your _broken_ toys and hoping that one day someone would save you. You let your relatives walk all over you.”

“Stop it.” Harry groaned, and wished he could stop hearing the voice.

“How is it, that someone so weak ever managed to survive against me? Why did the prophecy choose you? You’ve escaped death, with your meagre repertoire of spells, relying on luck and your optimism that it’ll be alright. But that’s part of the problem you see… you throw yourself at danger, without even bothering to think twice. How is it that _you_ survived?”

Harry tried to find his voice, “That’s because someone has to do it. Someone has to show you that you can be beaten. So many people are afraid of even saying your name but in the end, you’re just human. I’ve already killed the diary, and we’ve dealt with the ring. Soon enough my friends will find a way to let the others know, and you’ll die too.”

Tom considered his words.

And then, there was laughter. “Then I should warn my other self, Harry. I wouldn’t want them to harm the other horcruxes. Thanks for being so kind to remind me.”

“ _Don’t—”_

From the darkness, Harry felt pain. His skull was about to break apart. He resisted it, but somehow a message was communicated.

_They are hunting pieces of our soul. Keep them safe._

Then Harry felt some of his memories filter over, the same way how Voldemort would give him visions, until there was rage from the other end. Harry felt so angry. It was all consuming. Then, it was trying to reach out, pull him in, and a voice that hissed. “ _Give him to me! Give him to me, Now!”_

And then, the voice was gone. Tom was laughing. But Harry was panicking, because the rage was just under the surface, muted.

“Your friends will die soon, now that he knows. He will hunt them down and will grant no mercy.”

Harry couldn’t think. Tom’s voice simply carried on. “Harry, does that trouble you? You already knew this would happen, the moment those two joined you… they should have been prepared to die.”

“No…that can’t be true—” “How naive.”

“Let me go… I need to—” “Save them?” Tom cut Harry off and continued, “I can’t let you do that. You’re such a pretentious child, aren’t you? You thought you had everyone fooled. Let’s say I let you go and you manage to reunite with your _friends_ , do you have it in you to tell them you’re a horcrux too? They will never trust you.”

“I don’t want to listen to you.” Harry whispered.

“If anyone digs a little deeper, all they'll see is someone so weak—”

Harry grit his teeth trying not to let the words get to him. “So what if I'm weak? At least I'm not afraid of dying. I’m willing to die if it means it destroys you.”

“You are not allowed to die. As long as you’re a horcrux, no matter how unintentional… your life will be protected. All the horcrux requires is for you to be alive… so even if your mind and body breaks, as long as you live, you will continue to serve your purpose. Don’t make it harder for you than it already is. If you surrender… I promise, it won’t hurt.”

“Fuck you. You know I won’t surrender... not in a million years.” Harry was clinging on to the anger, because that was all he could do.

“I think you’ll come undone before the night is over. I’ll pick you apart, and teach you some manners.”

Harry felt fear then. “Go on then. I’m not afraid of you!”

“I admire this tenacity of yours. But like I said… your words won’t fool me. You know you’re afraid of me… because I’ve seen what you really are. No one else knows what goes inside your head. No one else knows how sick and twisted you are, Harry… and how much you need _help.”_

Tom was delighted, and continued, “Do you know the reason why you love flying, Harry? You love it because you love the ability to just let go, because at any given moment you can lose your grip. And fall. You want to die… so badly and you don’t even know it.”

“No…”

“I know the truth. I’ve seen it in your head. You chase after danger because you like to flirt with death. You only feel good when when you know you’re within an inch from dying. You relish the chase… because you feel so empty inside. Because you crave for something inexplicably depraved. You want to be abused.”

“No. I don’t want to—”

All of a sudden, they were back under the moonlit heaven. The stars shining up on them, and Tom Riddle was hovering on top of him.

His hands were affixed to the top of his head, with the locket wrapping them together, tight.

“I know what you want, Harry. You want all this to end. You want someone to save you, but you never had the chance to voice it out, because you were so busy being the hero… just because you thought it had to be you. Do you even know the truth?”

“I don’t care—”

A nail dragged across his wrists.

“No one really needs you. No one would bat an eye if you died. Just like what your friend said, you have no family. The only two people who ever cared for you abandoned you. Your headmaster let you live so you can sacrifice yourself in order to kill me… And now that you know all this, you’d kill yourself for people who clearly don’t care and don’t need you because you’re _broken_ and you want to die.”

His words cut through him like a knife.

“W-What I choose to do with my life... is none of your concern.” Harry whispered. There was a mounting panic, of _what if what he was saying was true._

“How stubborn. Aren’t you tired of denying it? There’s no point when it’s just the two of us. There’s no need to pretend you’re strong when I already know what you are. You will not win. Not against me… and especially not against my older self. Once I take you to him, you’ll have to learn how to _behave,_ or you’ll never survive.”

Tom blew against his face, watching Harry’s glasses fog up.

“Do you know what will happen to you, if you don’t learn, Harry? He’ll break you and if you don’t remain useful, he’ll lock you up, just like what he did with the rest of us. Do you want that, Harry? You’ll be so lonely. You’ll feel an eternity of nothingness, until your mind learns to shut down. Until you learn to sleep it off… or else you risk losing your sanity.”

Tom pressed their foreheads together and Harry couldn’t find it in himself to look away. He was frozen and then Tom began to put his hand on his chest, slowly unbuttoning his top.

“It’s all rather simple. You’re too selfless or you pretend to be. You never stopped to think of what _you need. What do you want, Harry Potter?_  Tell me what you want? Tell me, and I can give it to you...”

A finger traced meaningless patterns on his chest and Tom soon pressed his face against it, listening to the beating of his heart.

 _“What do I…?”_ Harry caught himself before he could finish the sentence. What he really wanted was unattainable. He wanted to put a stop to the war. He wanted peace.

And then there was another, a more insistent part of him that shied away from the fame, that wanted someone to hold his hand—

‘No.’ Harry tried to block the image forming in his head. This was exactly where Tom wanted him… he was like the devil, tempting him and messing with his mind _._

It was the effect of the horcrux. He said so himself. It relished his darkest thoughts.

“You know you don’t need to be the _hero,_ Harry…” Tom slyly said, taking care to see green eyes twist with pain and shame “And yet you still want to be one. How foolish… but perhaps if it weren’t for that foolishness, I would not have met you.”

“That’s not true.” Harry closed his eyes and when he opened it, Tom’s face was once again, so very close to his. The red of his eyes were flecked with yellow and black.

“I’m not twisting facts. I’m showing you the truth. I’m showing you that you brought this on yourself… and that I know you’re sick of pretending to be strong.”

“I… I can’t.” Harry looked away but Tom held his chin and straddled his lap.

“Why don’t you let go and be _yourself._ You don’t have to fight me. I don’t want to _hurt you._ You carry my soul, and thus I consider you as my possession… and I take very _good_ care of my possessions.” Tom pressed his face against his neck and inhaled.

Harry choked, “I’m not yours.”

“You are. You were ours the moment that scar appeared on your forehead. We will never let you go.”

“No. No… I-don’t understand. Stop saying... this. It’s weird. I’m not yours and all this time you wanted to kill me—”

“Not anymore. Your life, is ours to take.” There was a dangerous glint in Tom’s eyes and his voice was like that of a siren’s. It overpowered his thoughts momentarily. He knew the horcrux was preying on his emotions. Tom wanted to suck him dry, until he couldn’t fight anymore.

“That’s right, Harry. You’re tired. You’re fighting a losing war. Why don’t you listen to yourself? Why don’t you admit it? Why don’t you let me _take over_?”

As Tom said this, his hands began to wrap around Harry’s neck. Squeezing it, and Harry couldn’t breathe. His body was trying to gulp mouthfuls of air but it wasn’t enough.

It hurt… and somehow he wondered if this was how he was going to die. He could see spots entering his vision, as it tunneled and blurred with the onset of tears. And then, lips touched his. Pressing insistently against his open ones.

He was choking for breath.

“Isn’t this what you want? _This excites you doesn’t it?_ You want _pain_ so you can quiet your mind. This, I can give you… and more,” Tom spoke against his lips.

Harry thought he was going to faint. Then Tom let go of his neck, and he was coughing and trying to gulp in air as greedily as he could. But before he could have enough, a tongue dove into his mouth. And he was panting, and still trying to _breathe_ but with Tom kissing him and pressing his face too close it was hard.

He struggled. Twisting his body here and there, but Tom pressed down, holding his face and the back of his neck, steadily.

‘Fuck.’

He felt lightheaded.

It was so different from kissing Ginny. He wanted to say no, but Tom was wrestling with his tongue, diving in again and again. There was so much saliva.

And then, he was strangling him again. Breathing against him. Then letting go. It was overwhelming.

It felt good.

He wanted to say it was disgusting. He wasn’t even gay but his body was reacting to it. He kept trying to buck away from the man but all that got him was laughter.

He tried biting the tongue. And Tom just grinned. “That won’t work on me, Harry. This body… doesn’t feel pain. But yours does.”

And Tom bit his tongue, and then his lips until it was bleeding.

Harry whimpered. There was a lump at his throat, finally realizing the danger he was in. He trembled.

“You look beautiful like this. We’ve only just started.”

“Stop… I don’t want this… I don’t want—”

“Mnnn.” Tom stopped him with another kiss, this time putting his other hand on his chest, squeezing a nipple, and pressing his crotch against his, grinding, and thrusting against him.

“Ahhhnn”

Harry knew what Tom wanted. It was obvious.

Harry wanted to shrink away. He tried to close his legs, weakly… but it was a losing battle. Tom was stronger and against his exhausted body, there was nothing he could do.

“Do you think I care, Harry? And don’t lie to me. I can read your mind…you want to be loved don’t you? I can love you.”

“This isn’t love.” Harry looked away, and tried to focus on the shadows of the trees, the rustling of the grass as the wind blew through it. It was cold. The floor was slightly damp. His hands were useless above his head, unable to move against the locket. It cut through his wrists if he struggled too much.

It hurt.

Tom merely ignored him, deftly removing the buckle of Harry’s pants. The man took his time to admire the body as it was slowly revealed.

“Harry, you know you want this. Just for tonight. I can make you feel good. Even a _hero_ needs rest.”

Harry couldn’t speak. Couldn’t muster the energy to say no. He already tried.

“Hmmm, giving in already?”

At some point, Harry felt like a kid again, unable to say no to anything. It was just so painful. Tom’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll take care of you, Harry. Eventually, you’ll get used to this. Don’t be shy… you’re old enough aren’t you? Think of it as your birthday gift...”

“I hate you.”

Harry closed his eyes. Pretending he wasn’t there. Pretending that maybe he was just somewhere far away, and that if he wasn’t responding, then maybe it wasn’t him.

That this was all just one big nightmare.

But the sound of his clothes being peeled off his body was so real.

The voice in his _head_ was telling him _give in, give in, give in._ But he didn’t want to. He always thought his first time would be with a girl, with him being a little clumsy because he had no idea what to do.

Not like This. In some random forest. With a man. With his enemy.

He thought he’d be fondling Ginny’s breasts, kissing them, and slowly trying to ease it in. He’d thought of it many _many_ times, even with other girls, but not like this.

And his body liked it. It was as if it had a mind of its own. His voice was coming out, “Ahhh. Ngh- s-stop... no…” Tom just touched him down there. His hands were firm, playful.

Harry hoped he could just keep it all in, but Tom knew where to touch, sliding his hands teasingly. He wished he’d just strangle him. Curse him.

Tom took his time, exploring his body. Nimble fingers worked its way under his boxers, and eventually, when that wasn’t enough, he began pulling out what seemed like a half hard cock.

The night air was chilly.

“Stop resisting.” Harry’s legs were splayed wider and Tom pressed closer. A hand began doing slow strokes.

Tom’s hands were warm. So warm. And good.

Harry bit his lip, trying not to say a thing. The only thing that ever touched him there was his hand, and it was too much for someone so inexperienced.

Tom stroked him. Slowly. Taking his time to feel through the softness. Thumbing the slit that had began to drip of precum. The mushroom like tip was pink. Harry’s dick was slightly darker at the base. There were a few veins, bulging ever so slightly, but they weren’t unsightly.

“How pretty. It’s surprising I’m your first. Being the hero, I thought you’d have your share of girls and boys throwing themselves at your feet…”

“Nghh.” Was all Harry could say.

“To think you’d resist being with anyone in fear of me. I’m pleased.”

Tom’s eyes darkened. He began crawling downwards, laying kisses upon Harry’s collarbone, sucking the boy’s nipples. Letting them perk up like little pebbles.

Lathering up and down, and then biting. “Anghhhh… No… stop.” Harry’s eyes squeezed in pain. And Tom merely bit harder, not enough to break skin, but hard enough that Harry felt the beginnings of adrenalin.

Tom scratched his nails downwards, raising welts and whispered, “I was going to be gentle… but this isn’t what you need right now. I’ll fuck you raw, Harry.”

“I don’t— hahhh... want… this.” Harry said, in between panting and moaning.

Soon Tom was blowing against his half hard cock, taking it inside his mouth without much warning.

And Harry felt his toes curl in pleasure. He twisted his face to the other side and then back, trying to muffle his cries and closing his eyes.

“Mnn.” Tom licked it slowly, up and down. “Don’t be so shy, Harry. I want to hear you. No one else is here… so you can let it out.”

And then, Tom swallowed him completely, and Harry felt it hit the back of Tom’s throat. “Ahhhh. Tom… no… no— Nghh more.” Tom was bobbed his head up and down, expertly..

Harry wanted to stop his body from feeling it but it was useless. He was panting. Almost out of breath. It’s been too long. He hardly had time to even touch himself during the hunt.

He was close, so close, and Tom squeezed him tight, “Not yet.”

Harry was panting. Breathless. His hips bucked involuntarily without his own accord. His glazed eyes were staring back at Tom.

“You want more?” Tom asked him, and was back to kissing him, and Harry could taste himself on Tom’s tongue.

Harry could feel himself responding, to the pain, to the pleasure. There was a hand, fingers, dragging across his mouth and shoving in.

“Suck, Harry. Get it real wet…”

And Harry did.

“Good boy.”

And just like that, there was a finger in his ass.

“So easy…”

“ _Just… get on with it.”_  Harry hissed, in parseltongue.

Tom smirked. “Fine.” And he shoved three fingers, stretching Harry fast and coating his insides with his own saliva.

Tom took out his fingers. “This will hurt.” And pressed in.

Harry screamed.

 

* * *

 

When it was over, he felt lost. It was hard to process what just happened. Harry was shaken. He just let Tom fuck him.

Take his virginity. And even now, he was biting and kissing and Harry didn’t have a voice to stop him, already hoarse from screaming.

He could feel something leaking out. Tom told him he was probably bleeding.

His back was probably bruised, from being pressed against the ground, and against the bark of the tree so roughly.

He was so weak. And he could hardly move his fingers, even when Tom took away the locket, to put it once more around his throat.

The man gave him back his wand, carded fingers through his hair in apparent fondness.

There was a kiss to his forehead. His brow. His scar.

Harry just let him do it. “Cold?”

Harry just gave a small almost imperceptible nod.

Tom smirked and began to dress him up, discarding his pants and giving him just his shirt and his black robes.

He was tired.

So tired.

“Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

They apparated. Harry landed on the floor, disoriented. And then, once he took in his surroundings, he was horrified.

His hand pressed against his scar. It hurt.

Tom was beside him, and Harry just wanted to disappear as he stared up at the people in the room. His other hand tried to pull the cloak around him, closing his legs together and trying to cover himself.

He landed himself in a Death Eater meeting. Even Voldemort looked surprised. Pleased.

Harry felt panic seep through the turmoil. He felt self conscious. His body hurt. His ass hurt. His wrists were bleeding. He was probably bruised all over.

It hurt to think… and with Voldemort so close, he had a migraine. It took all his will power to stay conscious.

Voldemort stood up, his wand was pointed at him, “It took you long enough to bring him here.”

Tom smirked, “I had to have some fun, you see. He’s all yours now.”

Then Tom vanished, and with nothing left to support Harry, his body fell to the floor in a thud. Harry kept trying to get up but his arms were shaking.

Several others stood up and did the same, pointing their wands at him. Murmurs began of  “How did they get in?”

“The wards should protect us from intruders…” “Just who is he?” “Our lord seems to know him.”

“Quiet, you fools,” Bellatrix hissed.

Voldemort began laughing. “Lower your wands… the boy is not a threat.”

Harry willed his body to get away, looking utterly afraid and lost.

“To think Dumbledore would have me murder you. Now that I know the truth, it will change everything. My lovely Death Eaters, from today, Harry Potter has surrendered to the dark. Not one of you is allowed to harm him for he is mine.”

Voldemort grinned, and lazily waved a hand, levitating Harry Potter’s body to him.

“ _Look at me. Let me in your mind, Harry.”_

Harry found that he could not fight the voice. Once he took one look at the monster, he found his memories being ripped apart. It was different from how Tom took his time.

Voldemort hammered through, not taking care if he damaged his mind in the process.

And then, he stopped, and Harry was panting, but unable to move as he was suspended in the air.

“Leave us!”

Bellatrix looked concerned, but the Dark Lord had only eyes for the boy. Enjoying his unexpected prize, she thought.

They soon filtered out of the room.

 

* * *

 

The Dark Lord was pacing back and forth, and Harry could only groan in pain, unable to move. It was like being in the graveyard again, but there was no portkey this time...

“Crucio!”

Harry convulsed against the curse. He started screaming. It hardly lasted a minute but it felt like an eternity.

“I will kill them. _I will hang their corpses so everyone else can see!”_

Then Voldemort dragged him by the hair, and pressed a wand at his temple.

Harry tried not to cry. He tried very hard. Tom’s voice was silent in his head.

“I should punish you for what you’ve done.”

“ _Just kill me,”_ Harry whispered.

Voldemort snarled, “I can’t do that… not anymore. But I can hurt you.” The man began to compose himself. Breathing in combined annoyance and excitement. He took his wand and cast, “Diffindo.”

He cut through the boy’s chest.

Harry groaned in pain as Voldemort let him drop to the floor. Blood began to spread. He clutched at his bleeding chest, trying to crawl away. His hands tried to reach for his wand, but with a wave of Voldemort’s hands, even that was taken away.

“ _Master.”_ A large snake hissed and circled around them. Voldemort turned to it and said, “ _My friend, we have work to do… They know… They know… We must kill them.”_ And then, the man turned back to him, hissing, “ _I will hunt down the order. I will hunt down your friends. You will be there to witness their deaths.”_

Harry weakly said, “ _...No.”_

Voldemort’s smile was twisted on his inhuman face. “ _You don’t have a say in this, Harry. From now on, you are my prisoner._ ”

He took out the boy’s right arm, and dragged his wand, digging against the pale white of the boy’s forearm. “Mosmorde.”

“Agh…. Stop…” Harry grit his teeth against the pain. Harry stared at his wrist, seeing the beginnings of the dark mark forming. It began burning.

“ _The pain will only grow if you resist.”_

Harry thought his wrist was going to come off. It was burning like a hot brand. Harry couldn’t take it and began crying.

Harry looked up at the face of the man in his nightmares. Voldemort’s eyes were bloodshot red.

Harry hissed when Voldemort began tracing the dark mark on his wrist almost reverently, “I only mark my most trusted followers, Harry… but I needed something that can tie you to me. This will do for now.” Voldemort smirked.

“Take it off.” Harry hissed. He wanted to claw it off, but he read about it… that once branded, the mark remained for life.

“Don’t presume you can order me around.”

Harry shut his mouth, and keep the bile from coming out. Voldemort grew more irritated as he took in the state of the boy.

“You will remain in the manor. _Sleep._ ”

Harry felt his eyes closing on their own accord. Harry’s head lolled to the side and the last thing he saw was Voldemort reaching out for him.

 

* * *

 

All trace of warmth left the Dark Lord's face as fury assaulted him. He summoned his most trusted advisors and began to question the events that just happened. How was it that three children managed to get past their defenses and wreak havoc.

He found himself torturing Lucius for losing him the Diary once more. It was unforgivable.

From the brief glance to the boy's memories he found out they were looking for the pieces of his soul. Only the diadem, Nagini, the locket, the cup and the boy remained.

He felt too vulnerable. He could not risk more.

His first course of action was to make an appearance towards Hogwarts. He knew the faces of the Order members, and he would make an example out of them if they resisted.

Then, the diadem. The diadem must be taken and placed in a much safer location. Bellatrix was already on her way in retrieving Helga’s cup and she had with her twenty Death Eaters.

Time is of the essence.

 

* * *

 

When Harry blinked his eyes open, he was laid on a large white bed.

It was dark but the moonlight lit the room in a dark blue glow. There was a warm hearth at a corner. His room smelled faintly of fresh sheets. And it was soft, the softest bed he’d ever had and it swallowed his form.

He smelled. He wanted to take a bath.

His body was unresponsive… His bones hurt. He thought he might have a fever.

He raised a hand with much difficulty and touched his neck as was his habit. He felt the chain of what must be unmistakably the locket.

And somehow that reassured him.

That was so wrong in so many levels.

He started crying.

It was all his fault. He wished to gods Ron and Hermione were safe.

This is what he got for running into things without a plan.

 

* * *

 

Eventually, his tears stopped and all he could do was stare up at the blurry ceiling. He tried to leave the bed, but he saw there was a chain on his feet and he could only move so far.

As he lay there, he could feel the Dark Lord’s fury. It was disconcerting, how aware he was of the other man’s thoughts.

He thought that once Tom brought him there, he’d be placed in the dungeon, but right now he was on a bed.

 _“Stop thinking Harry._ ” Tom said.

Harry glared at nothing in particular. His hands curled into fists. “ _I hate you.”_

Tom laughed, “Liar.”

 

* * *

 

The day crawled by. Harry soon learned that his _fever_ would not go away. No matter how long he rested.

Tom was carding his fingers through his hair. At the very least, he was given a blast of scourgify and his dirty clothes were discarded in favor of soft silk.

“It’s only a matter of time until he comes back. Do you want to play a game, Harry?”

His lips were close, inches from his parted ones.

And when Harry was about to say “No.” Tom kissed him, pressing his lips against his unrepentantly. Harry hastily kept his mouth and teeth shut.

Tom licked his lips and Harry made a disgusted face.

“How rude,” Tom remarked, and trailed fingers around his chin, and lower towards his neck.

Harry rolled to the side just so Tom could stop attempting to kiss him. The horcrux simply smiled, “I have a confession to make, Harry. I tried to kill you.”

Harry tried not to listen.

“That morning before you woke up, I had the locket strangle you in your sleep but for some reason I couldn’t kill you. I was unable to. I found it strange and thought my enchantments were not working on you. Just like the diary, I should have been able to consume your soul. Something was stopping it. Something strange and familiar. That’s how I found out what you are. That you have our soul… no matter how small it is… it’s there.”

Tom spooned him, with his hands trailing lower, and lower. Harry was wearing a white robe with nothing underneath. He closed his eyes when Tom began pumping him.

Harry tried to focus on the green pillows. He looked at the large French window that was next to the bed. He saw birds.

“Is this fun, for you?” Harry found his voice then, just when Tom was trying to press two fingers in.

Tom hissed in parseltongue, “ _Yes. And no. Nothing… has ever quite felt the same. I enjoy doing this, of course, but it’s a means to an end. Being imprisoned in an object for forty years does that to you. Just like you. I crave to fill the emptiness with sensation…”_

Tom began pushing his fingers back and forth. His other hand was sliding up and down Harry’s dick, and Harry bit his wrists, trying not to make a sound.

 _“I’ll fuck you,”_ Tom whispered.

Harry keened when Tom curled his fingers against a spot that made him feel really _good._

He took out his fingers and began easing the length of his cock inside Harry’s ass and just like the first time, Harry felt so full.

And then, Tom moved. Inch by inch. Slowly. Harry groaned, his breath hitching.

And it was hot. Because at any moment, the door could open. The Death Eaters could see him get fucked by _Tom_.

But Harry’s frazzled mind could hardly care.

 _It was not like he had a choice_.

“Why don’t you admit it… you want this too. You want this as much as I do.”

Tom fucked him silently. And Harry managed to stifle his gasps because Tom was doing it so gently, as if he’d break. His fingers curled against the pillows.

There was a house elf that popped, “I bring break-fast.” It’s floppy ears folded into themselves when it saw Harry was busy with someone else. Tom grinned. “It says breakfast, Harry. But am I not feeding you already?”

The house elf soon began trying to step back, “Sorry, Master Tom… but this be Harry Potter sir’s favorite. Hogwarts sent Trixie a list.” Tom smirked, and raised Harry’s legs higher, and Harry desperately wished the house elf would just stop looking.

But all he could do was gasp and moan, “Angghhh Tom.. stop—”

“Shh,” Tom twisted his face towards him and started kissing him. Slamming hard and the sound of their bodies slapping on the bed was so lewd.

“You like this, don’t you. Who knew you could be such a slut, Harry?”

The house elf soon popped out of their room, and Harry came, breathless.

Tom kept fucking him and Harry grabbed a pillow and said, “I hate you.”

“Don’t lie.” Tom squeezed his ass, digging in fingers.

Soon, Tom came with a quiet grunt. He pulled out and stretched.

“How about some breakfast? Harry.”

But by the time Tom offered, Harry could feel a dizzying sensation come over him. The room was spinning. “I don’t feel so good.”

Tom looked concerned the bastard, “Trixie.”

There was a pop. The same house elf couldn’t look him in the eye. Tom was annoyed. “Call the healers. He... ing...to be— _now_!”

The rest of the words were garbled but there was a reassuring hand on his forehead.

 

* * *

 

From time to time, Death Eaters would come and accompany him to the baths. He didn’t like those moments, when random people could see how bruised and used up he was.

They had wands at the ready, and taunted him. Bellatrix showed up once, looking like a frazzled cat. “You should be grateful for Our Lord’s mercy.”

And the most Harry could do was throw things at her “Get out.”

And she laughed at him.

Snape was the worst. He came with healers, and he could feel Tom’s dislike of him, materializing beside him as he manhandled Harry like a toy. Harry felt like his body was turned into an oversized teddy bear.

The story was that Tom was the Dark Lord’s apprentice _,_ but some of them knew the truth, like Snape. They knew that Tom was a horcrux, and therefore only a step below the Dark Lord. So even when Tom was being openly insulting at times, Snape did not retort back.

It was almost funny but it wasn’t.

Harry just didn’t want to see Snape at all. Every time he saw the man, he’d remember Dumbledore and how Snape betrayed him.

But given how he was reduced to a plaything for one of Voldemort’s horcruxes, he couldn’t say a thing. He was getting fucked every day like some cheap prostitute.

Sometimes he thought that was the only reason why Tom spared him… There wasn’t anything about him that was particularly attractive. But Tom mentioned they had a bond, and Harry had yet to feel it or didn’t want to. He denied it again and again.

Sometimes he wasn’t awake when Snape came for a visit but he couldn’t stay asleep forever. From the last encounter, as the man was busy healing his body from the after effects of the Dark Lord’s Diffindo and cruciatus, he said, “how unsightly,” at the cum splattered bed and the results of the diagnostic charm which he made Harry read.

Something about his ass needing creams because Tom was becoming a little too rough, and if they could avoid being too rough so he could stop wasting his potions.

The man was wrinkling his nose and Tom materialized before him, “Don’t you want a piece of it too? Your lord would say yes if you begged properly.”

But Severus was affronted. “I have better things to do with my time.”

 

* * *

 

“He left you food. Eat.” Tom hissed in his mind. Something Harry has been pointedly avoiding was eating food.

That was the only thing he could do to rebel.

He’d rather waste away than be fed by his enemies.

Harry flinched when something beside him stirred. It was Nagini, “ _Master told me you are not to leave this room. We shall wait for his return today.”_

Harry felt panic then.

The last time he saw Voldemort, the man injured and crucioed him. He was still not over how his right forearm was now marred with the dark mark. And it was strange at how it moved from time to time. It was hideous.

Nagini somehow crawled onto his lap. “ _You’re going to turn into skin and bones if you do not eat, brother.”_

“You should listen to her. I’m still tied to you after all and nutrient potions isn’t enough to keep you in good shape.” Tom took a piece of grape and pressed it against Harry’s unresponsive lips.

His scar burned. Harry gave a pitiful cry on the bed.

 _“No_.” Harry hissed back, and slapped Tom’s hand away.

Tom frowned and said, “It’s not poison.”

“How would you know?” Harry asked.

Harry could feel the beginning of tears. “I don't want to… I just want to be left alone… I‘m tired of this. What do you plan to do with me? Are you just going to lock me up in this room forever?”

Harry was frustrated.

Tom was done patronizing him. “Let me help you then.”

Harry felt his body move on his own accord, and without his consent, he began eating.

He wanted to puke it out, but with Tom possessing him. It was hard.

Eating was hard, because he didn’t want to eat. The food, no matter how good it looked was simply unappetizing. Not when all he could think of was how many people could be dying outside. And here he was, being fed scones, and fruits.

Harry began hyperventilating.

After they finished with the food, Harry was trying his damndest to gulp in air. It was just too much. The stress of the past few weeks, he couldn’t even tell the time- was getting to him.

He wanted to see his friends. He wanted to know they were all right. He wanted to get away from them. He should have run away when he had the chance.

It was then that Voldemort entered the rooms.

Voldemort then waved a hand over his face, and his serpentine form morphed into a slightly older version of Tom.

Harry shivered when the Dark Lord approached him. He tried to crawl away, until his back was to the headboard.

He couldn’t breathe. He just kept gasping. It felt too much… to deal with. It wouldn’t end.

“Trixie.” Voldemort’s voice was sibilant. And Harry felt afraid of him. His scar hurt. It hurt.

He wanted to get away.

A house elf popped into existence. It bowed, “Master called?”

“Get me a calming potion.”

Voldemort turned to him, and glared.

“I leave you to yourself for a few days to recuperate and I see that you’ve only gotten worse.”

Trixie popped back into existence and with shaking hands, handed a vial. “You may go.” He said to the house elf.

Soon there was a vial pressed against Harry’s lips. “Drink.”

There was compulsion in the command and Harry found himself drinking. He coughed some of it out but soon his breathing was starting to even out.

Voldemort pulled him into his lap and rubbed slow circles on his back.

Harry felt magic being pushed on to him slowly. It was nice and warm. He could feel himself relaxing, as a part of his mind grew muddled by _Voldemort’s_ magic slowly entering his. His head laid on the Dark Lord’s shoulder.

His scar stopped hurting.

And there, in the quiet calm, he could feel something in him calling out to this _monster_.

Harry knew he should pull away, but it felt so good and so relaxing. It was unfair.

“Who would have thought the savior of the Wizarding world could be so fragile.”

He tilted the boy's chin, and kissed him, and this snapped Harry out of his daze.

“No.” He pulled away.

“You give your body to my other horcrux and you would not give yourself to me?” Voldemort’s tone was icy.

“That’s different.”

“What is?” Voldemort asked, mocking.

Harry trembled when Voldemort took his wrist, and pressed a kiss upon his knuckles, before pushing him down on the bed and looming above him.

“No… don’t…”

Voldemort’s eyes smouldered.

“I can do _whatever_ I want with you if I so wished.”

Voldemort snatched the locket away. “I’ll be taking this away.”

Harry reached out for the locket in panic, “No… no… please don’t… don’t take it away from me…”

“You’re addicted. Your body cannot sustain his form, and you’ll grow weaker.”

Harry wasn’t sure what came over him and he sat up up, struggling to take it from Voldemort who started laughing.

“Look at what’s become of you.”

Voldemort wore the locket on his person. And Harry felt some strength return to him instantly.

“Give it back…” Harry asked, and all his mind could think of was _Tom_ was going to disappear and he’d be alone again.

He hated the thought of being abandoned.

Harry never felt so small and asked, his voice breaking, “What… what do I need to do…?”

Harry looked up at the Dark Lord. Voldemort brushed away his tears and noticed how badly the boy was trembling.

“Acknowledge me as your master.”

Harry hesitated.

Voldemort traced his lips. “I have devised a way to ensure you will never _disobey_ me. The prophecy will be made null if you cannot even think of fighting me, Harry. You’ll become my sworn slave, and if you accept this, I will consider giving you the locket back. What do you say?”

Harry knew it was wrong but he was past the point of rational thinking.

“I’ll do it…tell me… What do I need to do?”

Voldemort smiled, pleased.

He pulled the teen towards him and they apparated. Soon Harry found himself on an altar. Runes were carved all around him.

Harry knew he had this all planned and he would not take a no despite the illusion of giving him a choice.

Voldemort began casting a spell. He chanted of words Harry couldn’t understand and as he sat there, a ring began to appear around Harry’s head. It tightened around it. Harry whimpered at the pain.

Voldemort summoned a goblet filled with red, “Drink.”

Harry drank.

“Drink as much of it as you can.”

Harry kept drinking it. It tasted like blood.

And then.

Harry started screaming. All his emotions came back crashing.

The anger. The pain. The embarrassment. The shame.

“Acknowledge me as your master. Harry. You only need to think of it… and then, it will be _permanent_.”

Harry looked at him with blurry eyes, and thought in his head.

_‘Master.’_

Harry saw the runes seep into his body and felt something inside him twist. A voice that once filled with so much hate for the man before him began to quiet.

And when Voldemort came closer, and lowered his back to the altar, parting his clothes and fucking him, Harry couldn’t find it in himself to say no.

 

* * *

 

Harry found himself on the bed, his clothes nowhere to be found, folded in half by the Dark Lord who could not be satiated.

It hurt. But he came thrice now and he was spent. His body couldn't keep up.

He was bleeding.

Something in his head told him not to protest. Voldemort did something which made him unable to even _think_ of resisting. It was difficult when his mind fought against it.

It was all for the locket.

He missed the pleasant feel of the horcrux upon his throat.

 

* * *

 

When it ended it was dawn. And Harry could not feel his legs. He was bruised all over.

Voldemort pressed him close. “You belong to me. No one else can touch you.”

“You used to hate me, master.” Harry’s voice was hollow.

“I do. I detest your existence but I know it’s not your fault. You’ve been pushed in this role without your consent when all you ever wanted was for someone to accept you. We know what you are, Harry… You are mine. There is a bond between us. Don’t you feel it?”

Harry listened to it, and beneath his skin, he could feel the quiet hum of acceptance. Of yearning… of belonging.

“Tomorrow, you will create a horcrux… and I will keep it with me… so death will never touch you.”

 

* * *

 

Being handed back his wand was a novelty he wasn’t prepared for. All day, he practiced on how to cast the killing curse.

Voldemort was watching patiently. His followers had a bet on how long it’d take for Harry to cast it.

Draco was there too, looking at him with pity. Harry refused to meet his eyes.

It was easier said than done.

His victim? A poor muggle criminal that was begging for his life.

They told him of its sins, and Harry was reminded about how cruel humans could be upon each other. Here was a man who dealt with slavery, treating little girls and boys like chattel and selling them to rich people for easy money.

The moment they were damaged, or got sick, they were sent to work as slaves until their health deteriorated and they died. Some of them got tortured to death, for money, or for pleasure and all this man ever cared for was how much he got paid in the end.

Harry hated him. The man was given a truth serum and boasted how easy it was for kids to trust him. Give them a little hope and they’d believe him.

Parents who were in need of quick cash were happy enough to part with their children, and he had with him every race imaginable. He kept the pretty ones too. Used them before others can use them.

Drugged them.

Killed them when they fought back too much… because there was no shortage of kids and no shortage of clients.

Harry succeeded in casting the curse when he began to describe how he’d break their teeth so they couldn’t bite him, tie up their bodies and treat them like furniture. Fuck them with guns and knives until they bled. Branded their bodies with cigarettes and hot metal. And they’d keep begging unless he cut off their tongues and throats.

Harry hated it. He knew what it was like, to trust someone and have them betray you.

His master was the same… Harry clutched at his head, unable to finish the thought.

Another memory surfaced.

He tried to tell his teachers how much he wanted to leave the Dursley’s when he was a kid, and he thought they’d listen to him… but apparently silence can be bought with money, and the teacher he thought who was going to save him turned out to be another opportunist.

And he never got away. But this was so much worse. He wanted to wretch when he saw the green shoot out of his wand and consume the despicable muggle trash before him. Harry succeeded in casting the spell. He succeeded casting the killing curse.

And when he did, Voldemort was clapping, praising him. Telling him, “I knew you can do it, _my soul_.”

Harry felt ashamed for killing another human being. But Voldemort was adamant saying, “Muggles are vermin. They are worse than animals. You should be happy, Harry. You did the world a favor by getting rid of him. Come...”

And as Harry looked up at his master, still unsure about what to feel but seeing his master smile made something inside of him _happy_.

The creation of the horcrux was an experience Harry never wanted to repeat. Voldemort explained how it would hurt more than the cruciatus.

Harry was just busy trying to follow through the incantation. While his soul was still torn from the killing curse, the ritual would further separate a portion of it and it will be put upon a vessel.

“You’ll feel the loss, but you will soon grow used to it, Harry.”

Harry believed him.

Harry wondered what vessel they’d put his soul into. He should have asked, and by the time he was finished with the incantation, Voldemort was laughing… as he took in the sliver of Harry’s pure white soul, _now tainted_ , into his own.

And Harry was trying to scratch at his chest, because it was so painful.

 

* * *

 

Harry couldn’t stop hurting.

He was so lost.

He felt so empty.

It didn’t feel the same. He could not feel joy. He could not feel pain. He could only feel _anger._ He was highly irritable… and it didn’t go away.

Voldemort gave him free reign to roam around the Malfoy manor. He saw Draco giving him a pointed stare.

“Harry, if you… need someone to talk to. I’m here.”

But Harry looked at him with rage, because how dare he even suggest he could help? How dare he offer help now… when he didn’t need it!? The pain he felt could not be named.

It could not be healed. No amount of talking could heal the loss.

The Death Eaters just steered clear away from him.

He often visited the gardens, his thoughts of the outside world, and the locket overshadowed by the loss of his emotions.

If he were a rose. He’d be one without petals, whose thorns have been cut, and all that’d be left was an ugly stalk.

His soul was hideous now. He just did something unforgivable.

All for the sake of being _selfish. For love._

It hurt.

 

* * *

 

Voldemort came back after a week and his horcrux was staring out of the windows. He wore a thin white gown and around him was a thick green blanket.

When Voldemort approached and sat beside him, Harry couldn't stop himself and moved to rest his head against the man's chest.

He began sobbing.

“... You left me…” his precious horcrux was breaking.

Voldemort considered it, “I have an empire to rule. You are lucky I do not keep you in a cage. For all the trouble that you've caused me in the past, I should have imprisoned you yet I let you roam free.”

Harry stayed quiet but when the Dark Lord took his hand, and led him to the bed.

“Please don't leave me.”

Harry pressed closer, feeling the other half of his soul resonate with him. Voldemort admonished him with a glance, “you know I can’t do that, Harry.”

“Then how am I supposed to deal with this? I’m tired. Tom said… Tom said he’d love me.. Master, you took him away… and now I have nothing. I don’t know what’s happening outside of the manor and I’m locked up here, like I’m just one of your trinkets—”

“That’s because you _are._ You’re _my_ horcrux and the world outside is dangerous. Perhaps I’ve given you too much liberty. You forget your place, Harry. I should punish you.”

 

* * *

 

Harry found himself locked up in room full of dementors.

There was no point in running.

But he ran to the door, begging for someone to let him out. He kept saying “sorry master. I’m not going to do it again. Please. Let me out. Please.”

But they feasted upon his prone form.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you want to leave him there?” Tom asked Voldemort as he sat on top the man’s desk, playing with one chess pieces the man liked to use as a marker for his map of the wizarding world.

“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you rescue him? He was all but begging to have you back.” Voldemort flipped through a scroll.

“So you’re jealous.”

“No. I’m merely disciplining an errant pet. Go on then, I won’t stop you this time.”

Tom glared, “As if you’d let me. You know I can’t control dementors.”

He was fighting a losing battle. Voldemort was being spiteful. He even kept a scrying mirror, to spy on the boy as he cried himself inside the prison.

“Then you’ll simply have to wait and assist me with the war,” Voldemort offered.

“Fine. But let me see him after.”

Voldemort narrowed his eyes, “You’ve grown too attached.”

Tom smirked, “What makes you think you aren’t?”

 

* * *

 

They cleaned him up. Harry was looking blankly at Narcissa who personally saw it fit to take care of him this time, muttering under her breath, “There is a limit to how cruel he can be. If you want to stop this from happening again, you have to learn how to obey. Don’t upset him. Harry. Harry, are you listening?”

Harry was still shaking from the dementors. It took an hour to get him to respond to human contact. He lost track of time thinking he’d been there for months, when he’d only been there for five days.

He thought he was going to rot there, staring at white walls and waking up and dreaming of the same things. Of being haunted by his worst memories.

And of those rotting despicable things trying to touch him.

He flinched when Narcissa touched him. “Don’t.”

“You’re dirty, child. You need to take a bath… Salazar, help me. What did you do to make him so angry?”

Harry didn’t understand. He curled up around himself and mumbled, “I only wanted him to stay. I wanted him to give me Tom.”

Narcissa frowned, “So you acted like a child. You have to learn how to ask _properly_ … He’s very lenient with you considering it has taken this long for you to be punished. Many people died for their insolence. And despite your _relationship_ ,” her mouth twisted in apparent discomfort at this, “it’s best to remember that _he_ _is_ the Dark Lord.”

“I know… I know that… I know but I can’t help it… I feel so lonely.”

“Then learn to read his emotions. I’ve been told by Severus that you’re connected. Use that connection to read him… The Dark Lord intends to keep you by his side, he’s shared that much with us, otherwise… he would not even bother giving you a room or send healers to take care of you. Do you understand?”

Harry nodded slowly.

“I can’t stop thinking about him… Is he still mad at me? Is this what I really feel?... or do I feel this way because I’m master’s slave?” Harry asked, feeling lost.

Narcissa sighed and said, “Unless that bond is broken, your feelings will not change. It is best to learn to accept them, Harry. Or else you will not survive this.”

Harry clutched at his heart, and something in his being violently protested when he said, “but I don’t want to love him… I want master to set me free.”

“Where will you run?” Narcissa asked and then continued, “The Order of the Phoenix is no more. Britain has been taken over. You and your people have lost the war, Harry. You know he won’t let you go.”

Harry was shaken, “What? That can’t be.”

“I’m sorry, has no one told you child? I shouldn’t have said that…”

Harry tried to smile, two thoughts conflicting in his head. One, that he was afraid for the lives of his friends, and two he was happy because without the war preoccupying his master’s mind, he’ll spend more time with him.

Harry clutched at his scar, groaning. “No… no… I can’t… oh god… what did he do to me?”

Narcissa knew he couldn’t help him anymore and just looked at him in pity.

“Let’s get you out of those rags.”

Harry let her undress him. In the bath, healers came. They treated the injuries that he accumulated during his stay in the white room, where he rammed his entire body repeatedly against the wall. Bruises disappeared. The cuts were healed. Bones were reformed.

Even now, he could not stop himself from shaking. He had a renewed fear of dementors.

He wondered why this was happening to him. When he drank that potion and accepted Voldemort as his master, everything _shifted_.

His thoughts began to revolve around his master. He wondered whether or not his feelings were real of they were merely a product of the ritual.

He traced the dark mark on his wrist. That made him feel special. He thought… the fact that Voldemort took a part of his soul meant something right?

If it hurt to think of Voldemort and Tom… if he yearned to be with them, was he in love? Did they love him back?

He just wanted a hug. Everything was too confusing.

He sunk lower in the bath and bubbles rose to the surface. He gasped for air and stared at the steam floating above him. He floated around. It took a while to compose himself.

Narissa’s words echoed in his head.

Tom was right. He really was weak.

After a long bath, and nutrient potions, Harry got out and acted like a doll. Narcissa fed him calming potions, and hugged him. “You’ll be alright.”

 

* * *

 

He was dressed in a white robe. Voldemort liked seeing him in white, after all. It was simple and pure.

Nagini was just outside of the bathing room. She coiled upon his form, and was visibly happy to see him. Harry smiled at her.

Despite appearances, Nagini was actually gentle to those she liked. He took comfort in the pleasant hum of another horcrux.

“ _Master is waiting. Come with me, brother.”_

 

* * *

 

Voldemort was sitting upon a throne, and before him was a legion of his followers.

Harry looked out of place as he entered the room. The crowd of black robed figures parted for him. They were whispering, pointing and shouting, incredulous.

The rumours were true after all. The Dark Lord succeeded in _capturing_ Harry Potter.

There was a voice in his head told him to come closer and kneel before Voldemort and he followed it.

Then, it told him to kiss his feet.

He kissed it. Reverently.

“As you can see, the Boy-Who-Lived is no more. This child has surrendered to me, knowing he will never win, and I being a merciful Lord, accepted him with open arms.”

Harry whimpered when Voldemort smiled. Voldemort used the tip of his toe to tip the boy’s chin upwards so Harry could look at him. Harry felt Voldemort read through his mind, and almost collapsed at the pressure.

It was over in a few seconds, but Harry’s head hurt… but Voldemort was smiling.

“Come.” Harry crawled towards the Dark Lord, aware that everyone was looking. He pressed his face against his master’s leg and smiled when Voldemort began petting him.

“ _Did you miss me, Harry_?” Voldemort asked in parseltongue, and Harry hissed back, “ _Yes_.”

Eventually, Harry had his head on the man’s lap for the entirety meeting. All that mattered was those hands kept brushing through his hair.

It felt good. Being this close to the missing part of his soul made him feel whole. And whenever their eyes met, Harry yearned to be closer.

Nagini wrapped herself around them.

 

* * *

 

The Death Eaters could hardly believe their eyes. Many speculated at the relationship between Harry Potter and their lord. This was a shocking. There were rumors going around but this was the first time they could confirm it with their own eyes.

They could see very clearly that Harry Potter had the dark mark on his _right_ forearm when the Dark Lord marked his followers with their left. If the boy who lived surrendered to the dark, then perhaps his place was even above the inner circle.

Some looked upon the display with pity. Some were outraged, and some were delighted.

It meant the symbol for the light was no more.

Soon their questions were answered with even more intrigue.

The Dark Lord explained to them that Harry Potter belonged to him, and they must protect his life should it ever come to harm.

No one else was allowed to touch him… and that the boy has willingly surrendered to him.

So they must treat him with respect. And deference.

A second figure appeared from behind the throne. It was a handsome young man with red eyes. “I formally introduce to you, my apprentice and only heir. His name is Marvolo Slytherin. He will command the army for the remainder of this war.”

There was an applause. They knew this man. This man was responsible to the fall of Hogwarts. He led the systematic slaughter of the Order of the Phoenix, and many likened him to a younger _more charismatic_ form of their Lord.

He was also more savage, preferring to spill blood rather than use the killing curse in killing their victims.

It was no surprise that the Dark Lord trained the man himself, for they battled the same way.

Marvolo Slytherin greeted them with a cold smile.

They went on with the meeting. When they brought in members of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry Potter remained unresponsive, as if he could not see them, despite people calling out the boy’s name.

When Marvolo Slytherin left his seat next to Voldemort’s throne, Harry turned his head, almost reaching out for him.

Marvolo kissed the boy’s knuckles, before going closer towards the seven prisoners. One by one, he executed them.

 

* * *

 

“ _Please don’t hurt them.”_ Harry hissed, his eyes glassy. His hands were trembling.

Tom just smirked and hissed back, “ _I’ll make it quick. Just close your eyes, Harry.”_

Voldemort grinned, “ _This is what happens to people who resist me, Harry. I have secured your two friends, as well. They are being tortured in the dungeons as we speak. I’ll grant you audience before I execute them tomorrow.”_

Harry looked up and saw that _this_ was the extent of Voldemort’s benevolence… and yet he wanted to do something. “ _Please… master. Can you not spare them? Perhaps there is a way… for you not to kill them? You can remove their memories… or send them away and ban them from ever coming back… Please.”_

Voldemort frowned and hissed, “ _Have you not learned your lesson?”_

Harry tried not to cry. Because he didn’t want to give Voldemort’s followers the pleasure of seeing him cry. “ _I have… but I’m willing to do anything.”_

_“Anything… you say…”_

 

* * *

 

And meanwhile, Arthur Weasley’s head was decapitated. On his right was Minerva McGonagall and Tom paused to say, “Good to see you again, Minnie. I told them not to rough you up, but it seems the young ones hardly follow rules.”

He prowled around her, wondering the best way to kill the woman.

Minerva McGonagall held her head high, “You will never succeed. One day, someone will rise above you. Do you think the other Magical societies will just let this slide? They’ll come after—”

Tom cut off her tongue. She started screaming and shouting with garbled words.

Tom laughed, “You talk too much. I would have spared you just because you’re a valuable asset to Hogwarts but you’re too set in Albus Dumbledore’s ways. We don’t need you in the new world we’re building. We were friends once. This is goodbye. Avada Kedavra.”

 

* * *

 

Dinner with Voldemort’s inner circle was already too much for Harry. All he wanted to do was retreat back into his room. He was placed to the right of the Dark Lord. And to Voldemort’s left was Tom.

Harry was trembling. The food looked delicious but Harry couldn’t eat. He kept recalling Voldemort’s promise of killing his friends, and how if he didn’t behave, he’ll be _imprisoned again_.

By the time people were halfway through eating, Harry was gasping for breath.

He couldn’t stop the tears.

Voldemort ignored this, discussing to his servants, “We have taken over the ministry, Hogwarts, St. Mungos, and the rest of the magical cities of Britain. All that is left is to restructure the government, and to begin admitting the children into our ranks. What say you, Pius? How is the ministry fairing? Do you think we can proceed with this plan?”

“My Lord, the ministry is prepared to do your bidding. It can be done within a fortnight, and all those that still have their trace can be summoned and marked, just as planned.”

Voldemort nodded, “Good.”

Lucius Malfoy who sat at the middle, began to interject, “Has the mark been tested for children, My Lord?”

Voldemort made a negligent sweep of his hand, “It should not harm them but this brings me upon an idea… that we should test it on mudbloods first. The mark is only painful to those who do not believe in me, and the more they resist, the more painful it will be. I’m afraid, we will have to suffer loses in this for I cannot allow anyone to live if they harbour ill will towards us. It will be a different mark, but it will act the same way as the dark mark.”

Bellatrix raised a hand, “I believe… this is a good way to see who is loyal to our Lord. I volunteer to execute those who fight back.”

Voldemort smiled at this, and traced the crystal wine glass, and it rung a sweet sound in the air. “My dearest Bella, while I admire your willingness to smite my enemies, there is no need. I do not wish to spill more magical blood in Britain. The curse will do it for us.”

“Do you want us to convince them, my lord? Forgive me for my impudence, but a lot of children have been brainwashed by Hogwarts or their foolish parents to join the resistance,” Came a voice from the end, “Yes, Dolohov. Whether it be through sweet words, or force. It does not matter. At the end of this, we shall need an army, for Britain will not protect itself if its people are halved in number.”

Harry felt something in him, stir at these words. “ _Are you going to treat them like me?_ ”

Voldemort turned to him, and shook his head. “ _Harry, no one is quite like you. I am warning you. I know of ways that will break your body, your mind. Do. Not. Test. My patience.”_ The Dark Lord hissed in parseltongue.

And Harry looked down at his barely eaten plate.

Tom stood up then, “My Lord, clearly your pet isn’t feeling well. Let me lead him back to your chambers.”

Voldemort considered this request, and looked at Harry who was visibly trembling, his eyes red with tears.

“Very well.”

 

* * *

 

Tom took the boy in his arms, and Harry clung to him, finally sobbing. Never mind the Death Eaters who were looking. He was done. He tried his best to hold it in during the gathering but maybe there was no point.

Once outside of the room, Tom kissed his forehead.

“ _I told you, you shouldn’t test him._ ”

“Where did you go? Why did you leave me? Don’t leave me again… Tom… Please.”

Tom looked annoyed, and said, “It was not up to me to decide where to go. He wanted me to assist with the war, rather than spend my time idle with you… and I didn’t wish to be put back inside the locket when I already have a body.”

Harry tried to wipe your tears. “So does this mean, you’re only here for awhile?”

“It is unfortunate but yes, we have very little time.”

They eventually came upon Voldemort’s chambers which had Harry’s room. “Tell me what you want, Harry.”

Harry was soon deposited on the bed.

Harry looked up at him, and murmured, “I want a hug.”

“Just a hug?”

Harry nodded, hiding his face behind a pillow.

“Fine.”

Tom discarded his robes, and clambered on the bed, settling himself next to Harry. “You look terrible.” Tom said, taking in the pale pallor of Harry’s skin, and the dark circles around his eyes.

“I was scared… Tom. I didn’t know when he’d let me out… I only wanted… I only wanted master to stay. Was that a bad thing? I’m so lonely here… no one wants to talk to me. No one wants to get involved… because they know I’m his.”

Tom combed his hair.

“He cut up my soul, and put it inside him. So I won’t feel whole… if it’s not with him, Tom… and I need him but he doesn’t want me.”

Harry hiccuped and tried wiping the tears but more kept coming.

“Master said he’s going to kill my friends. And the only way he’ll spare them, is if I torture their family in front of them Tom… I can’t do that. Why can’t you just let it go… let them go… It was all my fault. If I didn’t drag them into this… I don’t know what to do. What should I do? Should I torture Molly and Fred and George in front of Ron? Can I do that…? Can I… Oh…god… And I still can’t hate him for it. I still want master… I should just come back and say Sorry… Tom....”

Harry clenched his hands into fists. “Harry… you’re panicking again.”

Harry confessed, feeling so small. “I’ve been… reduced to this… needy thing, and I’m going mad. This is not what I wanted, Tom… you said—”

“I say many things. I lied. Does that make you feel better? I was willing to say anything, to bring you here.” Tom answered honestly, and all Harry did hiccup and then stop breathing.

“Did you lie when you said you’d love me?”

The boy was so different from when he first found him. He was a mess.

“Tom…”

Harry was choking.

Harry curled up and tried to push away but Tom didn’t let him. Harry struggled, banging his fists. Tom Took away Harry’s glasses. He sighed.

He knew that this was the first time Harry was letting out so much of his thoughts, his emotions. It was alarming, and at the same time reassuring.

“Listen, Harry. I don’t love you, the way you understand love. I can’t.” He pulled the boy closer.

Harry sobbed. “No… no… don’t say that—”

“I mean, I’ve tried, even as a child… but I can’t love like everyone does... I can only mimic it. You are precious to me. I wish to keep you safe, and unharmed. I wish to see you happy but more than anything, I want to keep you. Protect you… because you are a part of me, of _us._ This is the extent of my love for you.”

“Why… why can’t you?.”

“Why does it matter?”

“To me… it does… I’m going mad. It hurts… so much.”

And then, green eyes went wide, “Fine. just kill me already. I’m tired of feeling like this… of wanting you both when I know you don’t care.”

“Harry, stop. You’re overreacting.”

“I’m. Not. Overreacting. It’s exhausting… All I’m here for is sex. I’m just a toy.”

“Harry—”

Harry kissed him then. He rolled on top of Tom, wiping his eyes. “Well, go on then, fuck me,” he demanded.

Tom wrestled with the boy and put him under him.

 

* * *

 

Tom bit the boy’s wrists. He let Harry scream, and complain and cry. Yes he knew it was unfair.

The room was already a mess, with Harry’s uncontrollable rage. Perhaps he couldn’t see how much his magic was affecting it.

The sheets were ruined. There were shards of glass floating from the broken window. The walls were gouged.

And the boy was still screaming at him.

Such raw power, and Harry still hasn’t learned how to properly use it. Voldemort planned to tame it… The boy was such a beautiful creature really. If only others could see it as they did.

He dragged his hands downwards. Ripping through clothes.

This belonged to him.

Harry was his. And he didn’t care if Harry hurt because he couldn’t feel love.

A lot of things were unfair with life. He parted the boy’s legs, and kissed his way towards the boy’s lips. Tongue battling for dominance.

He had to get the boy to stop crying. He hated it when Harry cried for stupid things like this.

He liked it more when he was making him cry from sweet torment. This is why he hated feelings.

Harry simply couldn’t see the bigger picture. He was too attached to his emotions, but that was part of his charm. Despite being in their joint care for a short month, Harry still had that bit of _fire_ in him that refused to be extinguished.

That he would beg for the lives of his friends and risk _anything_...

“You’re such a fool, Harry.”

Harry was struggling underneath him. Kicking him. And yet so very hard.

“I’ll take care of you. Let me.”

It would take awhile, but if they could shape Harry into their perfect bride, then eternity wouldn’t be so loathsome. Voldemort already did the first few steps. By ensuring Harry could never betray them.

But such things like love… The one that was evident on Harry’s eyes… that was entirely his doing alone.

The ritual was not laced with a _love potion_ or anything similar. If anything, perhaps what Harry first mistook for love was his need to feel _whole again._

It would take time.

But they had an eternity.

 

* * *

 

Harry cried out when Tom entered him. Tom licked his lips and whispered, “Let it out, Harry…”

“Tom… nghhh...”

“You love the pain though. I bet you’ll like it even better when I hurt you.” Tom’s hands were burning wherever he touched.

Harry moaned.

“Crucio.”

Harry convulsed, and Tom fucked him anyway. He kissed the tears away, and Harry sloppily kissed back, limbs shaking from the cruciatus.

 

* * *

 

When Harry looked around, he saw the whole room was ruined.

“Do you feel better?”

Harry shook his head. His vision was blurry. Tom was hugging him, kissing him, and wiping the tears away.

“Will he ever.. Set me free…?”

Tom considered it and smirked “That depends on you, Harry.”

“Since I’m in a good mood, I can simply possess you and torture their family. That way you won’t feel as guilty. It’ll be easy.”

Harry stared at him then, laughed. “No… I’ve decided. I’ll just let them die.”

Tom blinked, kissing the boy’s forehead. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Why is that?”

Harry looked down. “I can’t live… with Ron and Hermione resenting me.”

“I see.” Tom was still looking at him concern.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily.”

Tom waved a hand and half things floated around came crashing on the floor. “It’s just… unlike you. You might come to regret this.”

Harry was quiet.

“Do you want to see them?”

Harry inhaled… then exhaled. “I do… but can you stay with me? Just for a little while? A few minutes… I need it.”

Harry turned around and pressed his head against Tom’s chest. And breathed. Harry curled up in his arms, wishing desperately for better times.

 

* * *

 

They left Harry’s room for the house elves to clean up. Trixie looked aghast but took it upon herself to repair everything.

Harry knew he looked terrible, with bite marks all over his body. But he was past the point of caring now.

He hid it with a long robe. Tom held his hand as they went lower towards the dungeons where Hermione and Ron were held.

The dungeons of the Malfoy Manor were depressing. It was small and cramped.

It stank of piss, and mold. It was damp and dark. There were small critters skittering around.

At the far end, where there was but one lamp hanging. To the left most was end of the hall was the cell they wanted to visit. The other cells were full, of people who were all but moaning and hungry. Some of them were probably dead.

Harry didn’t know. He didn’t want to care so much about the other people. He couldn’t feel anything for them.

 

* * *

 

With a wave of Toms hand, the metal bars unlocked themselves and Harry got inside Hermione and Ron’s cell.

Hermione hung from the wall with her wrists bound, nude, and her back was torn to shreds.

Ron was in one corner without a leg, sobbing silently.

“Hey.”

Tom shot a spell at the torches to light them up. He then unshackled Hermione and levitated her body to the floor.

Hermione’s voice was raspy, “Harry?”

“Mate? Is that you?” came Ron’s voice.

Harry lowered his hood, and rushed at Hermione’s side. He unfastened his robe to give her some modesty.

“How did you get captured?”

Hermione’s face was twisted in pain, “We were looking for you… I went back to the tent, but you weren’t there. I’m sorry… I left… I should have come back… I didn’t know what I was doing. I wouldn’t. Have left you, Harry… not on my own volition… but it was probably the horcrux.”

Harry felt guilty at this. He doubted Hermione endlessly after she left...

“I knew I had to find you. I had to do something. I met up with Ron and we tried to continue with the search for the horcrux, hoping that we’d meet you along the way… but a few weeks ago, we got seen while entering Bellatrix Black’s vault. We freed a dragon. You should have seen Ron. We were riding it… but Voldemort came… and ever since then, we’ve been at the manor.”

“All this time…” Harry was shocked.

Ron crawled towards Harry. “How have you been?”

Harry shared his story, the bits of it he was comfortable to tell. The way how Tom possessed his body and brought him to Voldemort.

How he was marked, and had to swear his allegiance to the Dark Lord… how he found out how he was a horcrux too and that was why Voldemort kept him safe.

“Did he rape you? I can see bite marks on your neck, Harry.”

“Hermione.” Ron looked scandalized and looked at Harry who laughed. “Harry… well don’t answer her, if you don’t want to say anything..”

“Yes. He raped me... At first… I… I really don’t want to talk about it.” Harry spit it out.

“You’re having sex with you-know-who?” Ron asked, flabbergasted.

Hermione found this absurd and said, “That’s awful… Harry. Oh god… this is so fucked up. I wish I can kill him. Again and again. That man’s a monster. I hope you’re alright...”

“Can’t reckon the last time I’ve ever heard you curse, Mione.” Harry mentioned, with a laugh.

“Well, we are getting executed tomorrow. I wouldn’t be that concerned with what comes out of my mouth.” Hermione said, and tried to laugh about it but it was horrible.

Hermione knew she was going to die. Ron probably didn’t from the look of his face.

Harry just couldn’t talk then. It was too sad. He didn’t know what made him want to see his friends when he knew they were going to die soon. He didn’t want to remember them like this.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry Ron… Mione.. I really am. This is all because of me.”

“It’s not your fault.”

And the worst thing was, he could do something about it, but he was just too much of a coward to do it.

“He told me he’d spare the two of you... i-if I tortured and killed your family in front of you.”

“He’s a monster, Harry. Don’t do it. Just don’t” Hermione admonished.

“I wanted to.” Harry sat on the floor, and began rocking back and forth. “I really wanted to… I want both of you to live… but I don’t think I could live with both of you hating me.”

He looked down, feeling small and tired of everything.

“Oh, Harry… I wish we could just turn back time… and stop this from happening.”

Ron was silent. “Will you be watching?” Ron swallowed.

Harry nodded, uncomfortable of saying another word but he said it anyway, “he… plans on making it a spectacle… Like a show.”

Hermione tried not to cry, but it was clear that she was crying now. Ron was the same, and reached out for Harry’s arm. “Can… can you tell my mum and dad… and Ginny and everyone else that I love them… and that I’m sorry too for making them worry?”

Harry pulled his glasses up and wiped his tears, nodding.

Hermione smiled at Harry, saying, “Hey… Professor Dumbledore once said that death is but the next great adventure… I’m not scared, Harry. I’m not scared at all.”

Hermione’s lips were trembling.

“But I’m… scared for you. I know that you’re one of the strongest people I met… but I hope that no matter what happens, you won’t let him break you… Don’t let him turn you into a monster, Harry… Please. Just promise me this… promise me, and I’ll die in peace.”

Harry whispered, “I promise.”

And Harry cried. He spent the remainder of the night there, getting as much as he could out of it, before he felt his arm hurt from the dark mark and the bond, pulling insistently at him.

 

* * *

 

Harry was given a white robe to wear, and on top of that was a white cloak emblazoned with the dark mark at the back.

Voldemort took him in his arms, and they landed in the ministry, where the dark mark was floating above the ceiling. The inner circle surrounded them, guarding them on all sides.

Tom was behind them.

They stepped outside into a courtyard where Death Eaters were mingling, drinking and celebrating.

A couple thousand people were attendance. He saw familiar people. There was a throne, and Voldemort sat on it. Harry stood beside him, and Voldemort hissed in parseltongue, “ _Smile, Harry.”_

Harry smiled, just as the flashes of cameras began.

Above them, there were floating bodies of people. They all looked like they were suffering and in so much pain. Voldemort pulled them down and they hovered on the floor, floating like broken dolls.

Voldemort began a speech about how this was how traitors would be dealt with in the empire.

And as festivities began, of veelas dancing in the sky, and dragons breathing fire, a platform sprung, a few paces away from Voldemort’s throne, there was a noose.

Harry’s breath hitched. He flinched, and his hands found itself holding the Dark Lord’s. Trembling.

“Their magic has been taken away from them. For their love of muggles, I will grant them muggle deaths. I say let them all hang for their crimes.”

And one by one they had a rope tied around their necks. And Death Eaters began clapping. Clapping in synchrony, waiting for the show. He could hear some chanting die.

Harry tried to keep the smile on his face. Fought the tears.

Hermione and Ron were there, and Harry couldn’t look when one by one they started suffocating.

He knew the feeling. Tom tried to strangle him once. It was almost merciful. He watched it. He watched how they twitched and convulsed and tried to pull the rope apart.

There was an applause once the bodies stopped moving. They were used as decorations around the ministry and Harry trudged along, following Voldemort wherever he went.

He fell into pace with Tom who hissed, “ _This won’t take long, Harry. Just keep smiling.”_

 

* * *

 

By the end of the long tiring day, they were in a different castle. Apparently, Voldemort managed to build himself a stronghold, taking inspiration from Gellert Grindelwald. An impenetrable castle, which would serve as their new base of operations.

He had a new room, which was larger than the one he had in the Malfoy Manor.

All he wanted to do was cry.

But there was no time for that.

 

* * *

 

“I have something for you, Harry.” Voldemort kissed him, gently.

Harry had his head on the Dark Lord's lap, exhausted from walking around all day… and from the morning massacre. He was just too tired to talk. Nagini was wrapped around him and Voldemort, stealing their warmth.

They were in the gardens, as a thousand floating lanterns filled the night sky. Somehow, even though he killed the rebels, he allowed other people to grieve. They expressed their wishes that somehow, in the afterlife, these people would find rest.

Voldemort continued petting Harry who slowly began to relax. Tom was an ever present shadow behind them. “What are you giving me, master?” Harry finally asked.

Voldemort then examined his charge, with the tired lines around his eyes. His pale skin and pale lips, the scar on his forehead, red and raw.

Harry was small, smaller than he should have been. He knew why. The despicable muggles, they were at fault. They deserved to die.

He tortured them. They were dead.

Harry need not know.

The boy was completely innocent. Love starved. His locket knew and kept the boy weak and susceptible. He only had to push a little until it got to this.

“I’ve prepared fireworks. To celebrate my victory. I have conquered Britain. See. Up there.”

The fireworks began, and Harry saw a myriad of colors in the night sky, against the lanterns. It was pretty. He never had time to enjoy them.

“Thank you.”

Voldemort looked like Tom now. And as the sky lit up with different lights, he could see it ghost against the man’s face… Harry couldn’t help himself and touched him.

“There is something else.”

Harry blinked, tilting his head. “What else do you have for me, master?” Harry’s voice was small… hoping that it wasn’t something scary.

Voldemort took something out of his pocket.

“A ring. You’ve seen it before and I’ve simply recovered it.”

Harry’s eyes widened at the Gaunt ring. Dumbledore died from the curse on the ring. He grew weak. And—

Harry watched Voldemort place it upon his ring finger. “All this time, Dumbledore placed it inside a snitch… I have no further use of it now, but I thought I should give it to you.”

“I… I— what’s this for, master?”

Harry raised his hand, and Voldemort kissed it.

“For your love for me.”

Harry felt his chest tighten with some unbearable emotion.

 

* * *

 

When time finally came, Harry relayed the message to Ron’s family in the form of a Pensieve. It took him two years to muster the courage to, and seeing how Molly was a sobbing wreck, he wondered if he shouldn’t have done it.

Ginny tried to curse him, especially when he saw whose hand he held as he apparated to the burrow.

“Why is he here Harry! Isn’t it enough we’re exiles? Look at what you did to mum! Get out!”

Apparently, they were the only ones left of the Weasley family. Arthur was dead. The rest were in hiding. Percy was serving the ministry.

"Ginny, calm down."

"No, Harry. You are not welcome here. Expulso!"

Tom deflected it with a shield, but debris hit Harry's face and put a slight cut.

"You tried to hurt him." Tom accused.

"Hey. I'll deal with this."

But Harry smiled at her, staring back at Ginny with red eyes. With a wave of a hand, Ginny was on the floor, convulsing from a curse.

“That is not a way to treat your lord’s consort. For this alone, you've reduced whatever chance you had to return back to wizarding society to nothing. Don’t think I’ll forgive you if you attack me a second time.”

 

* * *

 

From the two years since Voldemort took over, a lot of things happened.

Harry learned how much easier it was to stop thinking about his _feelings_ and just obey.

It made things easier and pleasurable.

Tom kissed him just when the door closed. “I like it when you’re mad.”

Harry kissed back, switching their positions, just to rile Tom up. “I like it when you get jealous. You hate that I kissed her don’t you?”

“I already killed the first one who ever touched your lips. Why not let me kill her too?”

“He’s Ron’s sister. I swear… I’m not attracted to her.”

Tom smirked, “You’d kill for less.”

“I know.” And Harry kissed him once more, deeper. Harder.

He tried so hard to keep his promise, to Hermione. But it wasn’t easy. When Voldemort began to teach him the pleasure of committing atrocity after atrocity.

He participated in muggle hunts. He’s slaughtered millions for the cause. Maybe there was some small part inside of him that was still crying but that was a very small part.

Because, he’d do anything.

Anything.

~~Just to feel alive.~~

For love.

 

* * *

 

They apparated back into the castle. At seeing them, the legion of Death Eaters began bowing their heads. Harry ignored them, heading towards the war room where his husband was busy discussing the MACUSA’s terms of governance.

He opened the door with Tom taking his obligatory spot next to Voldemort.

“Back so soon, Harry?”

Harry blushed, crawling onto his husbands lap. “I told you it wouldn’t take so long.”

Voldemort was wearing his other form, an older Tom Riddle. He preferred this over his scarier snake-like one. He began to use this more with his followers when they caught Harry, Tom, and Voldemort in a threesome. It was funny how it started and his dear husband wanted to do a mass obliviate, but he stopped it by coming up with a well placed suggestion.

What that was, Harry went red whenever he recalled it. And they’ve _explored_ a lot of kinky things. That one memory just made him—

The stupid deaging potion. He was ten, and they obliviated him, and he thought he was really sold as a prostitute. It was terrifying. ‘Merlin. Please stop replaying it in my head.’ Harry almost wanted to cry.

“ _My apologies, Harry. You’re wearing your school robes… and can’t help but recall. So, how was the exam?”_

“ _I didn’t do too well… I have one Exceeds Expectations and one acceptable but everything else was outstanding. I suck at potions and divination. Hey… shouldn’t you have a copy of this already?”_

“ _Sadly, there is too much paperwork to sort through. But perhaps I did take a look. Congratulations.”_ Voldemort hissed back in parseltongue.

Harry blushed. “So you do know about it.”

“Where did this come from?” Voldemort examined his face and saw a cut.

“Ginny. I already punished her. It’s nothing.”

“The Weasleys,” Voldemort hissed, and took out the elder wand, taking Harry’s right wrist and pressing the wand against it.

Harry snatched his wrist away. “No. No killing. Or torturing them.” He looked up at Voldemort through his lashes, and kissed him. “Please, forget about it.”

Lucius coughed and Harry had to remind himself that there were others in the room besides him and Voldemort.

Lucius began, “My Lord, they have sent a messenger. She is waiting outside as we speak.”

Harry left Voldemort’s lap and took a seat on the chair to his right. Bellatrix was still looking at him with envy and Harry just smiled at her innocently.

She looked away.

The doors opened and in came a white haired witch. After her speech, they knew that they were in for another purge, because the government refused to accept their terms of complete prohibition of any form of liaison between the wizarding and muggle world. Rebels took over.

“Well then, I’m afraid we’ll have to pay a visit. Harry, will you do the honours?”

Harry grinned, sauntering to the shaking witch. His red eyes flashed green once more, as a ghastly aura possessed him. With one touch, she crumbled to the ground, shaking, and deathly afraid.

“I know where they are, my love.”

Tom gave him the invisibility cloak and said, “Happy hunting.”

“ _What, you’re not coming?”_ Harry hissed, and Voldemort sighed, granting him the elder wand as he took out his bone white wand from the inner pocket of his robes.

Voldemort began chanting as a portal appeared. The other Death Eaters soon began entering it.

“ _I’m afraid, you’re going alone this time, Harry. Do us proud.”_

Harry felt sad. “Fine. Don’t blame me if I run away.”

Voldemort rolled his eyes and kissed the brat who all but melted in his arms.

“Okay… maybe I’ll come back. Just for seconds.”

 

* * *

 

Tom sighed as he read through the paperwork while the Dark Lord addressed another batch of followers regarding setting his sights at Bulgaria. They’ve only began to encroach on the territory of their trusted ally but now, when they least expect it was the best time to strike, especially when they were preoccupied with the World Cup.

It made sense to put everyone under their rule but it wasn’t happening fast enough. War was such that their forces could never be spread too thin for they risk collapse. If it were not for the cursed mark, which demanded complete compliance, it would not be so easy to secure the loyalty of their new followers.

That, and Harry’s newfound power as the Master of Death. The boy once risked his life to protect Voldemort, and came back alive moments later.

The perpetrators were punished, but Harry shared the discovery of the train station and pointed out that Dumbledore once left Hermione a book, that talked about the hallows.

It turns out the boy was a necromancer… and was technically immortal. For a time, the Dark Lord was troubled.

Harry reassured them, Voldemort in particular and said, “I love you. That will never change… I’ve already made up my mind that I’ll stay with you… if you can promise never to abandon me, master.”

And Harry was resolute with his path… sick of fighting, and after all the horrors they put him through… Harry only wanted to be whole. He craved for their love. He craved to feel something in his veins that made the _pain_ stop.

They turned him into a monster. A delightful little minx of one.

 

* * *

 

Harry flew in the sky as the portal opened. He descended with the Death Eaters upon MACUSA.

They were already expecting him, but they didn’t know how terrifying his powers truly were. He only had to wish for it. And with a wave of his hand, one by one, all those who were shooting spells began to fall dead to the floor.

The other Death Eaters were frozen. Harry landed silently, walking past the bodies towards the one boy who was left standing. Harry looked upon his face, saw in his eyes a thirst to prove himself, and a moral compass that could never condone evil. “Tell me who started this, and I will _spare_ you.”

“Never!”

Harry could feel a sense of nostalgia and wondered if this was what Tom felt then, a sense of playfulness and a thirst to spill blood. He began wondering, how far he could push until the man before him broke into tears and confessed all that he knew.

Lucius was beside him and spoke with deference, “With your permission, we will begin the search as well.”

“Go ahead, Lucius. Contact me through the mark if you meet trouble.”

The man bowed, and Harry grinned licking his lips, “Now then… there are many ways I can make you talk if you don’t wish to cooperate.”

“You’ll never get me to talk. You Death Eater Scum!”

Harry grinned, wondering if Tom and Voldemort would allow a souvenir.

Harry caressed the elder wand. “Sing for me.”

The young man began screaming.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you just read through all that? Let me know your thoughts. Constructive critcism is welcome <3.
> 
> Credits to the movie for some of the lines during the horcrux hunt.


End file.
